


After The Storm, Calm

by die_traumerei



Series: Bike Girls [14]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caretaking, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Injury Recovery, Kissing, Masturbation, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 21:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: After a rough patch, Aziraphale and Crowley comfort and care for each other. (And plenty of self-care too!) Just a day in the life of two women who adore each other.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Bike Girls [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997386
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	After The Storm, Calm

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, the file name involves the words 'self-soothing', SO. An absolute gift of a story to write, I hope you like it!
> 
> CW: explicit description of masturbation, aftermath of injury, depression

Aziraphale pressed her foot against the arm of the sofa and bit her lip, holding back a moan. The bedroom wasn't _that_ far away, and Crowley deserved an uninterrupted nap. Or at least quiet – Aziraphale had always loathed hearing other people having sex. She did not fondly remember her flat in London over the couple who, well. She was _happy_ for them that they had discovered BDSM, but rather wished that they had also discovered ball gags. Or quiet sex. At least her flat here in Tadfield was well-insulated from floor to floor, and she had never in her life heard a peep out of the elderly woman who lived below her, nor vice-versa.

So she tried to be polite, and anyway screaming wasn't as much fun without someone to  _make_ you scream, and for the moment it was all her. All her and the vibrator she was working into herself, easing the thick girth with little gasps, the feeling of  _stretching_ just so nice. She had to be a little bit careful – a torn Achilles tendon meant that her right leg needed some minding – but that was all right. Her sofa was big and very comfortable, and she had figured out how to spread her legs enough to work the big vibrator into herself. 

Aziraphale let her other hand drift up, idly feeling up her chest, her big breasts spilling out. Today was not a day for pain, so she squeezed and caressed, rubbed her nipples and bit back another groan, her cunny quivering. The vibrator was living up to its name and she eased it in a little further, gasping when the thickest part stretched her so  _wide_ , she must be obscenely beautiful, naked on her sofa in the sunshine, fucking herself with a toy while she played with her own breasts. A little bit further, just a bit – oh yes, and the rabbit ears would reach her clit, and she had something really thick and deep to clench around, her hips starting to rock, braced with her good foot. Oh, she felt so good, Christ this was amazing. She cupped one of her breasts, glorying in the weight of it – Aziraphale had  _very_ nice tits, and she knew it, too. She brushed her thumb over the soft skin and licked her lips, imagining all the times Crowley had kissed her breasts and licked them and nuzzled, all soft feeling. Soft today. Soft since her surgery, really; it seemed right and good to be gentle with herself.

Well, mostly gentle; she was still fucking herself heartily with the biggest vibrator she owned, the buzzy rabbit ears bumping against her clit and making her see stars.

Aziraphale worked herself over until she was just about to fall, and hit another button, the giant cock inside of her starting to thrust, ridges and a fat bump rubbing over her vulva while the rabbit rhythmically teased her clit, and that was all she needed, the hand not holding the vibe in place falling to the side and her body given over to bliss.

She humped the air, encouraging the vibe, and threw her head back, mouth open in a silent moan. Fuck, fuck, it felt so good, orgasms felt so  _good_ , sparking through her body, her cunny wet and open and her whole self begging for it. Aziraphale gasped as the initial electrical pulse eased, giving way to soft warmth flooding her limbs, and she hit the buttons to stop the vibrations and thrusting before they became too much, sighing very happily as her body came to soft rest.

She gave a little groan when she pulled the vibrator out, wincing a bit – she was swollen, deliciously so, but it was a bit sore! Still, an orgasm had done her good, and she felt sweet and sexy and very, very nice, just lying on her sofa for a bit, sunning in the afternoon light and marinating in the good feelings.

Aziraphale stretched, eventually, and sat up, moving a bit carefully. Her foot didn't hurt very much, but it wasn't nice to knock the poor thing. The bright pink cast stretched from her calf to her pointed toes, and was only medium annoying in her personal scale of medical experience. (Most annoying was a pulled groin muscle, ahead of but closely followed by by two broken legs. Aziraphale had not done well with the groin thing.) She really was getting quite accomplished at gathering interesting injuries, she mused as she got herself up onto crutches, and made it to the bathroom. A quick pee because no one needed a yeast infection, and she washed the vibe and neatly dried it before going to her bedroom as quietly as possible, trying not to wake her girlfriend who was fast asleep in Aziraphale's bed.

She was mostly successful; the vibe was safely put away and she'd made it over to her wardrobe and pulled on a pretty knit dress, easy enough to get around in. Bra and panties could come if they decided to leave the flat – which wasn't much likely. Aziraphale was all right on crutches, she was learning, but all those stairs were an absolute  _bear_ . And well – Crowley wasn't much in the mood for going out these days.

Oh, poor love – she had started to stir, and Aziraphale winced. She really didn't want to wake her; Crowley had such trouble sleeping lately, any nap was a gift.

“...Azi?” Crowley mumbled, stirring but not even opening her eyes.

“Shhh, I'm sorry I woke you,” Aziraphale called softly. “It's okay, love, you're safe. Sleep a little more.”

Crowley shook her head and opened her eyes, smiling softly when she saw Aziraphale. “No, you didn't wake me. Come and cuddle?”

Aziraphale smiled at her and made her way over to the bed, crawling in beside her easily, the two of them snuggling close under the light quilt. “Hello you. How d'you feel?”

Crowley shrugged. “Okay. I like it when you hold me,” she said shyly.

“I like holding you,” Aziraphale assured her, and kissed her girlfriend's flame-coloured hair. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Crowley said softly. “I'm sor...ah, sorry. Thank you for understanding and being good to me.”

Aziraphale laughed. They'd  _both_ had to work at the whole apologising thing. “Sweetheart, if there's one thing I understand, it's depression. And you're very easy to be good to. You're a good role model for that, actually.”

Crowley gave her a little squeeze. “How's your heel?”

“Still there. It's fine, baby, I promise,” Aziraphale said. What _timing_ she had! The winter had hit Crowley hard, leaving her in a fog of depression for no real reason. 

(“Brains are extremely dumb,” Aziraphale had finally said. “That's your reason.”

“Brains are _unbelievably_ dumb,” Crowley had said, before another crying jag came on her.)

It hadn't been good, but they'd been getting by; Aziraphale was supportive and tender and gave space when asked. She missed sex with Crowley, but had made due with her own hand and her array of toys, and they cuddled and kissed and hugged more than ever. Then came the night three weeks ago when Crowley admitted that she was afraid of what she might do if she were alone, and they'd spent a very frightening night at the local hospital. Crowley had gotten, in order, a therapist, a psychiatrist, and a prescription to try. Aziraphale had gotten to take her girlfriend home, hold her all night, and help her track if the medication was working, or no. So far the answer seemed to be 'somewhat' or at least 'so far', and Aziraphale had felt safe going back to work, and Crowley had felt safe as long as Aziraphale was still around a lot.

This had been helped when, just a week ago, Aziraphale had tripped running down the stairs on her way to work, felt something in her heel snap, and they'd wound up right back at A&E. It had been a complete tear of her Achilles tendon, repaired with surgery, and she was trying not to resent a summer spent in plaster – again. At least it was a good excuse to spend more time with Crowley. And she would go back to work tomorrow, and that felt good too – both the work, and knowing that Crowley would be safe and sound and right here when Aziraphale came home.

Crowley smiled and rubbed her hip. “No hurting?”

“No hurting, baby, I promise,” Aziraphale said, and hugged her. “I just had a very _very_ nice time in the living room. I feel very good.”

Crowley actually laughed, and kissed Aziraphale's cheek. “ _Good_ girl. What did you use?”

“Er. The one that thrusts,” Aziraphale confessed. It was by far her favourite, but was _very definitely_ only for masturbation, mostly because Crowley broke down into helpless laughter whenever confronted with the thing. Laughter had a very big and very important part to play in sex, Aziraphale knew, but this wasn't even _sexy_ laughter. 

Crowley smiled and shook her head. “Of course you did. A very good orgasm?”

“A lovely one.” Aziraphale stretched. “I feel very good, and very sexy. Would you like a tit?”

Crowley burst out laughing. “What a wonder you are,” she said affectionately. “I don't really want anything sexy yet, but can I use you as a pillow?”

“I would like that very much,” Aziraphale said. “Can you help me get comfortable? I'm still figuring out what to do with my bloody foot.”

Crowley sat up and did her best, cushioning Aziraphale's leg and rubbing her knee and the big muscles of her thigh, doing so much work to keep her foot off the ground. Once Aziraphale was settled contentedly, Crowley just sort of...crawled on top of her, sprawling, legs bracketing hers and head resting on her generous bosom. She settled with a soft sigh, and smiled when Aziraphale stroked the soft, shaven bit of her undercut.

“Will you braid my hair later, please?” Aziraphale asked.

“Uh huh. D'you want to go out to dinner?” Crowley murmured.

“Do _you_?” Aziraphale asked. “I'd love to, but we've got plenty here we can whip up, if you want.”

Crowley smiled and rubbed her head a little, nuzzling Aziraphale. “I do, actually. I feel better after my nap. Want to go to the Pen and Wig?”

Aziraphale softened. That had been the pub where Crowley had taken her after she'd got a cast for her broken wrist, all those years ago. Of course they'd gone back regularly, but it always held a special place in her heart. “Oh, please? It's the most gorgeous evening, dearest, we can sit by the river and watch the ducks.”

“Let's go at the golden hour,” Crowley murmured. “It makes you even more beautiful.”

“Oh, you're in a mood,” Aziraphale said, amused. “Of course, Crowley, anything you like.”

Crowley gave her a little squeeze. “Only if you like it too. That's important.”

“I like it too, very much. My gorgeous girlfriend taking me out for dinner. Shall I wear that yellow dress? From the first time we went there?”

Crowley nodded. “Please? It's so pretty on you.” She turned her head and raised it, reaching for a kiss. “I love you so much. Thank you for being the most amazing girlfriend, these past few months. You're incredible, Azi.”

“All I did was keep loving someone who I already loved deeply,” Aziraphale said, and smiled. “And rip a tendon and wind up in hospital, then on crutches for a few weeks.”

Crowley smiled softly. “Well, yes, you're actually rather good at both of those things,” she teased gently. “I mean it. I am so grateful for you. It's not over yet. I still wake and feel...not good. But it gets better every day.”

“Thank you, God,” Aziraphale said softly, and meant it. “And drugs,” she added practically, to see Crowley giggle. “Every bit of kindness and love I've shown you is a reflection of what you've given me,” she said. “Remember the girl covered in muck and suffused with trauma that you pulled out of a ditch?”

Crowley's smile grew. “I do. I remember how hard she works all the time to heal, and to be herself in a world that doesn't always love her.”

“Please remember that you gave me the space to be loved _and_ do all that, miss,” Aziraphale said firmly. “You are very, very important to who I am today.” She hugged Crowley tight. “Including my medical history, mind.”

Crowley giggled, and hugged her back, and didn't let go. “I love you so, so, so much. I'm glad I can take care of you, a little bit, in return.”  
“Same,” Aziraphale said, revelling in how safe and grounded she felt. “Oh, love, don't let go for a little bit, I feel amazing.”

Crowley laughed and wrapped her legs around Aziraphale too, of course careful of her hurts, but mostly holding her tight, tight, tight, until she said it was okay to let go.

Crowley settled behind Aziraphale with comb and elastics at the ready, and began to smooth out her curls. Aziraphale's hair was the longest she'd ever seen it, just below her bra band, and it was unbelievably soft and lovely to play with. They were both in their underwear because sometimes one should live up to pornography-based stereotypes of lesbians, and also it was a warm evening and they liked being basically naked together. Crowley had something like negative libido, but she still liked to  _look_ at Aziraphale, on a purely aesthetic level. Asexual people had the right idea, honestly. 

She lifted the heavy curtain of hair for a moment to kiss Aziraphale's back, but went back to work right away, combing her hair to neatness. “One braid or two, sweetheart?”

“Two french braids, please?” Aziraphale requested. “I like how it feels when you touch my scalp.”

“Done and done,” Crowley promised, using the tail of the comb to separate Aziraphale's hair, tucking one gilt cloud over her shoulder before beginning work on the other. 

Jesus God, she was the luckiest woman alive. To have the most amazing, tender, pretty, smart, kind, understanding and compassionate girlfriend, through  _everything_ . They'd been through illness and injury and now...well, another kind of illness. Crowley was not accustomed to her brain betraying her, and she didn't like it at all, but...it was getting better. She didn't wake up and wish she hadn't anymore. She wasn't happy, exactly, wasn't who she was before this odd depression came over her, but she could get out of bed, and work a little. She could leave Aziraphale's flat, or her house – sometimes. She could be left alone and feel okay, although it was better if she was at Aziraphale's place.

(“Your apartment is  _really_ good to be mentally ill in,” she had blurted out when Aziraphale came home from work one day to find her on the sofa under a weighted blanket, eating a jacket potato smothered in cheese, and with candles and a salt lamp lit, all while watching  _Spirited Away_ .

“Well, duh,” Aziraphale had said, not missing a beat. “Can I interest madam in a nice stim toy?”

“Don't mind if I do,” Crowley had said. She'd picked out a spinning ring, and had very quietly stolen it and never stopped wearing it. Both because spinning it was soothing, and because it reminded her of Aziraphale, and that Aziraphale loved her.)

She could drive her girlfriend to A&E when she needed it, poor love. That had been scary, too soon after the worst feelings Crowley had ever had, when she was just starting to emerge from the darkness that had so terrified her. But they'd got through that, too, and Crowley had managed to hold it together to take care of Aziraphale when  _she_ was at her most poorly, with generous help from their friends. And things weren't perfect for either of them, but they were getting better. Every day Crowley felt a tiny bit lighter, and Aziraphale was able to move about with some kind of ease, scooting up and down the stairs on her butt and swinging along on her crutches with confidence. After the initial pain of the surgery, she barely even needed a paracetamol, just to be careful of her foot, and rest up for when she'd need to start physical therapy.

Crowley finished one braid and tied the end off, and started on the next. They'd have to get going soon to catch the golden hour, and she could do Aziraphale's hair again later, or tomorrow, let the silver-gold curls slip through her fingers and tame flyaway ringlets temporarily. Maybe Aziraphale would let her take the braids out, and she could sleep all night – for she thought she might sleep that night – with her face in a cloud of angel's hair.

“That's you done, love,” she said and patted Aziraphale's shoulder. “Want me to grab your dress?”

“Oh, would you, dearest?” Aziraphale smiled at her, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, easing her hurt foot down. 

“'Course.” Crowley found it quickly, and picked out shorts and a pretty silk top for herself. Nothing very special, but the dark red of the top made her skin look nice, she thought, and it was quick work to help Aziraphale dress, make sure she could handle the long skirt of the dress, and get herself dressed. A bit of gel to tidy her undercut, and they were ready to go.

Aziraphale laughed at her own lack of dignity as she slid down the stairs, Crowley following with the crutches and cheering her on, helping her up at the bottom of the steps and rewarding her with a little kiss.

“I love you,” she said, helpless at the sight of her laughing girlfriend.

“I love _you_ ,” Aziraphale said. “Come on, darling, you're driving and I _desperately_ need a pint.”

Crowley laughed, despite the darkness at the back of her mind. It wasn't going away, just getting quieter. She hated it. But there – she could take her beautiful girl out to dinner, getting them a table right by the river and ordering them both food and – of course – Aziraphale's pint. The light was sweet and golden, and Crowley took a few pictures, it was that flattering, and smiled her prettiest and only crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue for a few of the pictures Aziraphale took of her. They ate and lingered over another round of drinks – a half for Aziraphale, mindful that she'd have to get to car and then up the stairs, and another lemonade for Crowley, who did not need any  _more_ depressants in her system, thanks – and watched the evening steal on.

“Azi?” Crowley asked softly.

“Yes, dearest?” Aziraphale asked, her attention drawn from a sleeping duck.

“This isn't a proposal. But I could...I could see doing this forever, yeah?”

Aziraphale's face softened. “Oh, Crowley. This isn't a yes. But there's no one in the whole world I'd rather grow old with.”

Crowley smiled at her, lips only trembling a little bit. “Good. I. Yeah, that's...that's good.”

Aziraphale's smile was a little wobbly too, and she reached over to wipe a tear Crowley hadn't even noticed was on her cheek. “It's not the right time yet. But it will be.”

Crowley nodded quickly, and wiped her eyes, and laughed, reaching over to touch her thumb to the corner of Aziraphale's eye. “Be careful, love, your mascara will run.”

“Have you _met_ me? I've been buying waterproof since I was sixteen!” Aziraphale exclaimed, and they giggled, no longer in danger of tears.

Drinks finally done, Crowley watched like a hawk as Aziraphale hobbled to the car, but she was steady and there were no incidents there, nor after they got home to Aziraphale's flat either. The ritual of bed was comfortable and comforting, now with the ritual of medication folded into it, culminating in the two of them snuggled up together, Aziraphale yawning her head off.

“I love you,” Crowley murmured, relishing the feeling of being sleepy, the way they tangled together, even Aziraphale's hard cast against her ankle. It was the feel of her girlfriend right now, and it meant Aziraphale was safe and sound, cared for, her hurt attended to. It meant she was safe, and she was still in Crowley's arms. It meant there'd be a tomorrow, and it might be better than today. It might be worse, too, but they'd already survived worse once.

“L'yuh too,” Aziraphale mumbled. “L'yuhsmush,” she slurred, clearly already mostly asleep.

“Shhh,” Crowley whispered, and let her own eyes close, and fell asleep snuggled up to her girlfriend, both of them still glowing from a wonderful evening.

**Author's Note:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


End file.
